H O P E
by OrganizedMess
Summary: A Short/Depressing Story about when Neville visits his mother and father at St. Mungo's Hospital for Magical Maladies and Injuries (1/2)
1. Default Chapter

Title: H.O.P.E  
  
Author: Typically Chugging Tea  
  
Rating: PG-13  
  
Ship: None  
  
Summary: Neville visits his mother and father at St. Mungo's Hospital for Magical Maladies and Injuries  
  
Disclaimer: All Characters Belong to JK ROWLING, Scholastic Press, and Warner Brothers. I am simply borrowing them.  
  
A/N: This is inspired by the new book Harry Potter & The Order of the Phoenix (Chapter 23, Christmas on The Closed Ward) and a scene from "The Laramie Project" by Moises Kaufman and the members of Tectonic Theater Project  
  
-  
  
There lived a lonely boy, but he was special. He wasn't special because his grandmother continued to remind him on a daily basis. He wasn't special because of his expertise in Herbology. Nor he wasn't special because his best friends just happen to be Harry Potter, Hermione Granger, and Ron Weasley. Neville Longbottom was special because of his part in a prophecy. A prophecy he wasn't aware of but continued to play out his part in aiding Harry in his quest to vanish the evil Lord Voldemort. To the outside world, Neville Longbuttom was a clumsy, hormonal, normal teenage boy. In the depth of his bedroom, he was something more.  
  
During the summer, Neville and his grandmother would often frequent St. Mungo's Hospital for Magical Maladies and Injuries. He often would hide his face under a hood or hat as he walked through the crowded streets before the institution out of fear of being recognized. Once inside, he remained hidden underneath the disguise. Though many nurses and healers would pass by him greeting him with smiles and waves, he remained hidden.  
  
Once inside the ward, Neville would finally remove the hood and glance at the occupants as he passed. Usually, there would be only 1 or 2 new patients with only minor injuries. The majority of the ward would remain the same; some remembering Neville and others would stare at him as if he had only come into life 20 minutes before. He was so use to this treatment that he let it slide. Though, every now and then, someone Neville became attached to would forget him. Then the pain that had become so familiar would return. It was difficult, it was very difficult.  
  
Neville and his grandmother moved along the rows of beds until they reached the end of the room where 2 beds were curtained off. As usual, they visited the bed on the right where his mother's bed was. Pulling back the curtains, he saw her sitting on the edge of the bed playing with something in her hands.  
  
"Hello Alice!" his grandmother would boom, as she would stretch her arms wide in an overly enthusiastic hug. Neville constantly rolled his eyes at this, his grandmother often complained of the hassles to go into London constantly to visit her daughter and son in law but continued to do it for Neville's sake.  
  
She wrapped her thick arms around his skinny mother and embraced her in a bear hug. Neville had seen pictures of his mother before the "event"; she had so much life in her eyes, Neville's eyes. Now they were sad and empty, her skin was pale and her cheeks were hollow. It was painful for Neville to see his mother that way, wrapped up in so much misery for so long and Neville not knowing how to help.  
  
"Alice, look who I brought today," his grandmother said in a sugar-coated tone as she gestured towards Neville, "It's Neville. You remember Neville your son." His mother's eyes settle on him, her once vibrant blue eyes had turned to a dull gray. His grandmother softly shoved Neville towards her and he wrapped his around her bony body in an uncomfortable, awkward hug. His mother didn't hug back; her arms hung limply at her sides. He let go and looked at her, her eyes staring curiously at him making Neville feel slightly uncomfortable.  
  
"Well say hello, Neville," She pushed.  
  
"Hey, mum," he said in a small voice. His mother began to gesture to his hands for Neville to come near him. He did so and she pulled his hand out and opened his hand, placed something on his palm, and closed it once again. Neville gave her an odd look and then looked into his hand.  
  
"What did she give you this time, dear?" His grandmother inquired. Neville held up a small candy wrapper, and his grandmother rolled her eyes. "Again? I don't understand Alice, why do you always give Neville garbage? You're a big girl, you can throw it away on your own." She said to his mother in a baby voice. She only looked back at her in a blank stare; his grandmother heaved a heavy sigh.  
  
"Come on dear, let's go visit your father." His grandmother said and guided Neville towards the bed on the opposite side of the room. Neville looked over at his shoulder and saw his mother crawl under her covers in a ball. Neville never knew exactly why his mother continued to give him candy wrappers; he guessed it was some type of communication for her silent ways. A way for her to tell him it would be all right, or that she loved him. It was something that gave Neville hope very time they visited. It was a constant he could look forward to every visit, like a warm hug or a soft kiss on the cheek. He pocketed the small candy wrapper.  
  
Neville watched as his grandmother pull back the soft blue curtain that surrounded the bed across the room from his mother. He saw his father laying on the bed, staring up at the ceiling above him, not blinking once. It seemed he had not moved from Neville and his grandmother's last visit. Unlike his mother who wanders around the ward, making grunting noises or hand gestures when she needed something. His father didn't move unless someone was there to help him.  
  
"Hello Frank," his grandmother spoke to him, using a softer tone then with his mother. He didn't move. His grandmother picked his hand up and held it softly in hers, "It's your mother in law, Frank, it's Olive," she said as she leaned over the bed, wiping the hair out of his eyes, they didn't blink. The only sign that he was alive was the slow rise and fall of his chest as he breathed. "I have a visitor here with me. It's Neville, your son." This time Neville stepped forward without his grandmother's help.  
  
"Here Honey, take his hand." She said placing his father's limp hand into Neville's hand, "I need to talk to the Healer for a moment. Just talk to him for a while," she said as she scurried off to the doctor who stood at the other end of the room. Neville pulled up a chair with his free hand to the side of his bed and sat down.  
  
"Hey dad," he said, his voice remaining small and weak, "School's out, I should be receiving my O.W.L.S. score any week now. I think I did all right, especially with Herbology." He said but his voice dropped, he felt like he was talking to a sheet of cardboard. He didn't blink, move, or so much as opened his mouth. "Come on dad, say something. You haven't spoken a word for so long. Do something," he pleaded; his father did nothing in return. Neville's face screwed in pain, "I visit you every week and you do nothing but lay there." his voice cracked as tears welled up in his eyes, "I'm starting to forget what your voice sounds like, Dad, just say anything. It doesn't have to be a word or anything. Or squeeze my hand, just something." He continued to do nothing. Neville put his head down onto the bed and placed his father's hand on top of his head. It was so painful, to Neville, to visit your mother and father in a hospital for so many years and them not recognizing you as there own son. Not to hear a word or so much as a mumble from them. He wanted to be a normal family; he wanted his parents' back. Yes, he did love his grandmother and appreciated her for taking into her home and taking care of him, but Neville needed a father figure. He wanted a man to show him how to fly on a broomstick, someone to go to Quidditch games with, and a person to talk to about girl problems at school.  
  
His father's fingers scratched his Neville's head suddenly; Neville shot up as his father's fingers continued to rub his head. His eyes continued to stare straightforward towards the ceiling. A smile grew on Neville's face as he jumped forward and wrapped his arms around his father's strong neck.  
  
"Come on, Neville. Time to go home," his mother called to him. Neville gave his father one last tight squeeze and whispered in his ear "Thank you." He let go and closed the curtains once again. The healers have continually said that there could be little improvement in his father and mother's recovery but Neville knew otherwise. All you need is hope. 


	2. Part 2

Neville and his grandmother arrived home later that afternoon. He lived in a very cramp house with his grandmother, 3 aunts, 2 uncles, and his toad named Trevor. His grandmother always believed in a close nit family. Before the sudden death of his parents, his grandmother demanded that the whole family should gather on Sundays for dinner. Now, they only eat dinners on Sunday together if they weren't too busy.  
  
Uncle Jeffery was always running back and forth between home and his job at the ministry of magic. He was the head of the Department for the Regulation and Control of Magical Creatures. Neville's aunt, Jeffery's wife, however refused to leave the house: always claiming she needed to work on her knitting ("Six scarves aren't enough for Neville. He needs at least 11. Isn't that right Nevy?"). Uncle Allen and Aunt Grace were aurors, which meant they were gone most of the time. Once in a while Neville's grandmother would get an owl simply saying "Working. Love, A and G." This made steam come out of her ears.  
  
Then there was Aunt Charlotte. Since the death of her sister, she barely left her room. Once in a while she would come out go to the bathroom or to get something to drink. Most of the time his grandmother would leave a plate of dinner in front of her door. The next morning, Neville would sometimes see an empty plate. Other times the plate would still remain full of last night's dinner, untouched. His grandmother would remind herself under her breath "She will get better. She will get better." The only thing Neville could do was give her a reassuring hug, one she always returned warmly.  
  
As Neville entered the kitchen, he saw his Uncle Jeffery sitting at the head of the able, shifting through the Daily Prophet. A picture of Harry was on the front page. He smiled eagerly and puffed his chest out in a proud manner. Neville couldn't help but smile back at the picture. Next to Uncle Jeffery was Aunt Grace. She stared at the cup of tea that sat in front of her: Her hair fell limply to her shoulders and bags were present under her eyes. It looked as if she had another late night at the office.  
  
"Hello mother," Uncle Jeffery greeted them, not lifting his eyes from the paper, "Hello Neville."  
  
"Afternoon Jeffery," His grandmother said briskly while filling the teakettle with water. "I trust everything is well at the ministry." Uncle Jeffery made a type of grunting sound in return which Neville accepted it as a "Yes." Soon the kettle was over a small fire, warming up. Neville's grandmother's attention soon landed on Aunt Grace who finally took a sip of her now cold tea, "Hello Grace."  
  
"Mother." she said before a yawn escaped her mouth, "How's Alice and Frank?"  
  
"Fine.. er . Neville, dear, go run up to your room while grandma talks with Aunt Grace?" She asked in a sugarcoated tone she had used earlier with his father. Neville knew what this meant: He often overheard conversations his grandmother had with his aunts and uncles. Always telling them not much has changed and how dim it was looking. Strange enough, it didn't bother Neville in the least bit. It only made his hope stronger and the desire to prove them wrong to grow. Neville fought the urge to tell his grandmother about his father's hand response, wondering if she would believe him. He ignored the feeling; it felt like a secret between his father and him. Neville enjoyed that very much.  
  
Neville reached his room on the second level of the house. It wasn't a small room but very crowded. He had many books stacked in odd places; shelves filled with toys and things his relatives sent him while they were away on trips. Posters were plastered on the wall of Neville's favorite Quidditch team, the Egyptian Explosions. Beside his bed, with shooting stars that zipped around on his comforter, was a picture of his parents. It was their engagement photo: his mother looked young. She was possibly 19 in the picture. His father stood next to her, his arm wrapped around her shoulder with a twinkling smile. Neville glanced at the picture and then remembered he still had the candy wrapper in his pocket.  
  
Making sure the door was securely closed; he reached under his bed and pulled out a dusty photo album. He sat on the floor and placed the album on his lip. It was a deep shade of maroon with a few newspaper clippings sticking out here and there. He opened the first page; in the center was a picture of his parents. A tropical setting was behind them: his father waved while wearing a Hawaiian shirt and straw hat. His mother waved as well, wearing a tank top with shorts. The picture was unmistakable: it was their honeymoon. Instead of going to the wizard's beach where you were free to squirt water at each other through your wands and levitate a loved on over the water before plunging them into the sea. Neville's parents decided to go the packed muggle beach. It was packed with muggle tourists; it was evident in the photograph, with their towels and umbrellas. Neville's mother was always interested in how muggles lived and went through life without a single ounce of magic. The only thing Neville's father could do was respect her desire and assist her in perusing it.  
  
Neville turned the page to see another pictures of his parents. Only this one had a baby in it. Held by his mother, Neville couldn't have been any more then 9 months in the picture. His mother sat in a chair holding him while his father stood behind her, his hand resting on her shoulder. Like Harry's picture in the Daily Prophet, his father's chest puffed out in pride.  
  
Neville turned the page once more and saw a picture of him and his father. Though this one was taken without his father looking at the camera. Instead, his eyes were focused on Neville, still a 9-month-old baby boy. His tiny hand was wrapped around his father's large finger. His eyes became misty for this picture but a tear did not fall. Instead he flipped to the back of the book to finish what he set out to do.  
  
One the very last page was a single picture of a very pregnant Alice. She stood alone, holding her protruding tummy and rubbed it absentmindedly. Around the picture was many candy wrappers of various different brands: The candy wrappers his mother had give him. Since the age of six, every visit his mother would either give him a candy wrapper secretly or flat out in front of his grandmother. Though she constantly asked him to dispose of them, Neville ignored her requests. What was sitting in front of Neville was nearly 10 years worth of candy wrappers.  
  
He reached under the bed once more and pulled out a stick of muggle glue, he always found it to work the best with these sorts of things.  
  
Nobody knew of Neville's secret photo album. His family did have many pictures of Neville's parents in their own photo album. Neville needed something of his own that once belonged to his parents, something that he didn't have to share with anyone else, something that could be a lone connection between him and his past. He thought about this has he pasted the candy wrapper onto the page.  
  
"NEVILLE!" a voice rang through the halls and caused Neville to jump out of his skin. "NEVILLE!" it called once more.  
  
He hastily shoved the photo album and glue under his bed. He soon heard footsteps and frantically looked for something to make him look busy. It's not normal for a nearly 16-year-old boy sitting in his room, starring at the ceiling. He noticed his potions book on the ground and grabbed it. He turned to a random page just as his grandmother entered the room.  
  
"Neville?" she asked curiously, "What are you doing?" she asked, looking at the book and then back at him. He always wondered if his grandmother ever mastered the art of Occulmency from the way she was looking at him.  
  
"I'm . er . studying . uh ." he looked down at the page and then looked up again. "The many uses of bat puss."  
  
"Oh," she nodded, obviously not wanting to venture further on the topic. "You got a letter just now. Poor bird, flew straight into the salad bowl." She said, handing him the letter. "Poor thing should be shot and put out of his misery." She muttered as she walked out of the room and closed the door.  
  
Neville sat the potions book aside and looked at the letter. The writing was a bit sketchy but he saw the words "The Burrow" in the corner. He opened the letter and read it to himself.  
  
Dear Neville,  
How are you mate? It's Ron. Have you gotten your O.W.L.S. yet? I haven't but I know I did down right awful on my Potions test. Anyway, my Dad is going to America in two weeks to do some research. We have an extra ticket and I was curious if you would like to go. Hermione and Harry are going but they're refusing to take the ticket and wanted to buy their own. Ginny suggested you and told us how interested you are in America. So what about it? Hope to hear from you soon!  
  
Best Wishes,  
Ron Weasley  
  
Neville swelled with excitement. If his grandmother approved, he might get to visit America. He's heard so much about it and this huge statue visitors from every part of the globe traveled to see. Also, about this house millions flock to every year because their minister lives there or something like that. Neville suddenly realized something and blushed furiously. Ginny was thinking of him when they were talking about the extra ticket. He's always had a slight crush on her since her 2nd year though she is a year younger them him.  
  
Neville stood up and started to make his way down stairs to ask his grandmother. Maybe this summer wasn't going to be a complete waste of time after all. 


End file.
